


Wolf Like Me

by katiesgotagun



Series: Wolf Like Me [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anger Management, Demon & Human Interactions, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Horror, Hunters & Hunting, Mental Instability, Romance, Serial Killers, Soul Selling, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2016-04-08
Packaged: 2018-05-09 01:40:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5520644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katiesgotagun/pseuds/katiesgotagun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Andromeda Weston(AKA Romie) wasn't like most humans. A violent past and unsettled rage set her on a path of solitude that she could not escape. After all, you can't make friends when you spend your life on the run. Torn between spite  and loneliness, she spiraled through her life alone only daring to dream of someone she didn't have to hide herself from.<br/>After Hell's gate opened and fatefully stumbling upon the existence of demons, Romie decided it was time to take matters into her own hands. In a desperate act of loneliness, she chooses to sell her soul for a friend, a soulmate, to share her ten years with.<br/>But by a twisted act of fate, her soul becomes ensnared and bound to the demon's she deals to, sending her down the rabbit hole into a world of Hell, Blood, and unexpected Hope.<br/>This certainly wasn't what she'd had in mind when she made her deal!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pleased To Meet You, Hope You Guess My Name

The night was dark. Although the large red waxing moon hung low in the autumn sky no light seemed to touch Andromeda Weston; nor the crossroads that lay before her.  The cricket’s song that had followed her on the long trek down the countryside grew silent as she neared her destination. In fact, every living creature of the night within 20 feet had seemed to take cover as if they already knew what was to come.

At the edge of the crossroads Romie stood with a tin box in her hands. Warily she eyed the moon, who’s light was tilted so that the small sliver that shown looked like an eerie blood red grin. The girl forced a dry smile.

She’d always called these types of moons Cheshire after the cat in Alice in Wonderland’s mad gleam. Ironic, she thought, considering what she was about to do was fucking mental. Then again, Romie reflected, her life hasn’t exactly been the poster of mental health.

If you asked her a month ago if she believed in demons and the supernatural she would have directed you to the nearest psychiatric unit. It had been a crazy month however, and Romie was never one to argue with facts.

A whistle of a distant train pulled her back from her thoughts.

“Right,” she muttered. Shifting her weight Romie dropped her back pack onto the dirt road with a heavy _thump_ a plume of dust. She set the tin on the ground beside the bag and dove into the pack. A moment later she pulled out a collapsible shovel she bought just for the occasion. Then, walking out into the middle of the crossroads she began to dig. She couldn’t help but notice the silence again as she worked. The only sound to be heard here was the scrape of metal against years of dirt and gravel coupled with the labored breaths as she swung low, stabbing into the earth with determination. She tried to keep her focus on those sounds because frankly, the heavy silence made the hair on the back of her neck rise. It wasn’t completely lost on her that this was beyond wrong. But it was quick work, taking only about ten minutes before the hole was deep enough for the box she had brought with her. Kneeling down, Romie popped the tin’s lid with one hand while fishing a photograph out of her coat pocket with the other. She sniffed. The brisk night air and her digging had made her nose run. Taking a moment to collect herself, Romie studied the picture in her hands.

It was old. The edges were tattered and worn from being held to many times. Creases had made their way across the smiling faces captured within the print. Romie tried to smile back at them, but only managed a grimace. She remembered that day vividly. It was her Christmas vacation from when she was twelve. Her parents had taken her to a ski resort in Wisconsin and rented a beautiful cabin in the woods. It was the best Christmas in her life. The photo was snapped by her father. She and her mother were hugging in the snow after a spontaneous snowball fight that lasted an hour. Snowflakes adorned their caps like tiny little diamonds glistening in the setting sun. They were smiling as if it were heaven on earth. Completely oblivious that hell would soon come to claim them all.

Her thumb ghosted over the face of the older red haired woman.

“Mom,” she breathed; a sound barely loud enough for even herself to hear. Romie’s jaw clenched, steeling herself.

 _Mom would understand._ She told herself and quickly ripped the image in two. Dropping her twelve year old self into the tin and tucking her mother’s half in her breast pocket, she snapped the lid shut and buried the tin hastily. _No point stopping now. It’s too late for me to go back…_ She patted the loose dirt for an extra measure.

_Now, we wait.._

And she did…

She waited.

And waited.

And waited..

And then she waited some more…

After ten minutes Romie sat down. Then, after fifteen minutes she began throwing rocks into the ditch. After twenty, she began aiming at the road signs, mocking a crowd’s roar when a rock pinged off the metal. After thirty she started stabbing the ground in frustration until the shovel’s lock slipped and pinched her finger, drawing blood. With a loud undignified yelp of pain and a slew of curses she chucked the shovel back at her bag, which she had also thrown to the side of the road moments before. The shovel hit it’s target and bounced off, landing on the ground with a metallic clang. Romie scowled at the traitorous tool, sucking the blood off her wound.  

“This is stupid,” she groaned. Laying herself down on the cool gravel and looking up at the stars she sighed, “So there are definitely demons but they definitely aren’t making house calls. Thanks a lot, Wikipedia…”

“Oh now, I wouldn’t say that darling,” an amused voice chuckled from behind her. Gasping, Romie scrambled to her feet unceremoniously. Spinning on her heals; she scoured the crossroads for the sudden intruder. On the far side of the intersection behind the road signs stood an ancient oak tree. It’s dead branches upturned towards the moon as if crying out to the sky. Under the shadow of that tree, Romie saw him. A dark haired man wearing a sharp suit and a smug smirk stepped out into the moonlight. At first she thought she was imagining it, but as he strode out onto the road there was no denying his eyes were shining blood red. She felt her blood run cold and the little hairs all over her body stood straight on end. He crept closer to her still smiling. She stepped back warily, on instinct. Her hand coming up to her pocket, fingers tracing the pocket knife she kept there. Even though the man was smiling, it didn’t seem a friendly gesture. Her heart pounded in her ears.

“That little tooth pick won’t do you a bit of good against me, love. Though I admire your fight, I thought you wanted me here,” He purred, giving her a practiced look of hurt before returning to his original smirk. His voice was gravelly, but smooth like velvet. Romie could feel her ears perk up when he spoke, but clutched her knife all the same. The demon’s smirk fell for a second obvious disapproval flickered in his eyes. He blinked and the red gleam faded into a hazel stare.

It was better Romie thought, than staring into red eyes. Although, she still felt like a squirming bug beneath a magnifying glass under his hard gaze she tried to force herself to relax.

“Yes.. I mean, yeah.. I want to make-“

“A deal, no?” The demon interjected waving his hand dismissively. The demon walked in a wide arc around Romie and came to a stop in front of where she had buried the tin minutes before. He looked up at the stars with genuine disinterest and let out a puff of air before turning sharply to face Romie. The action so quick Romie flinched. He continued with a sneer, “Well you certainly are taking your own sweet time with it.  What do you want?”

Romie narrowed her eyes at the man/demon. Weren’t they supposed to be charming? She’d read it was their job to coarse the weak into selling their souls by charming the pants off of them. Then again Romie wasn’t weak, and she didn’t need convincing. Frankly, his whole attitude made her want to smack him in the temple with her shovel and call it a night but she decided that that was a fucking stupid idea. Clenching her jaw tightly, Romie moved to speak.

Only to be cut off again.

“No, no wait. Let me guess; Money?” He snapped his fingers and a glass of liquor materialized out of thin air. He twirled the amber liquid absentmindedly.

“Fame?” He flashed a condescending smile.

“Love?”

Romie stood up straighter. She could feel her patience wearing thin from his relentless teasing. Through gritted teeth she answered, “A companion. That’s all.”

The demon rolled his eyes so hard Romie could almost hear it.

“So love then.” he scowled. Romie watched his judgmental eyes scanning her up and down. Heat flushed her pale cheeks as she angrily balled and unballed her hands into fists. Normally, she’d have decked any other person by now. Never really one for containing her temper, she’d been in many back ally fights and bar brawls over the years she’d been on her own. Her jaw ached from the tension of holding her tongue. _Those were just men_ , She reminded herself. _Don’t be fucking stupid, Romie_.

“No.” She all but shouted back.

_Smooth._

The demon’s brow hiked up his forehead. For the first time Romie could see a genuine smile tug at the corner of his lips. Relieved she hadn’t pissed him off, Romie took a second and tried to compose herself. Letting out a sigh she asked, “Look, what’s your name?”

The demon blinked, obviously taken aback by her question. Maybe it wasn’t usual for people to ask their dealers name, but she really wasn’t about to sell her soul to some unknown demon in a fancy suit and hoity-toity accent. She watched him narrow his eyes at her, as if he was asking if she was serious. This time it was Romie’s turn to raise her brows at him. Folding her arms across her chest, she waited. The demon gave her an annoyed look and sighed, defeated.

“Crowley. The name is Crowley.”

Romie grinned. It was a fitting name she decided, thinking back on the infamous Alistair Crowley she’d read about a while back. She looked him over intensely with her deep emerald eyes. She tried to piece together a reasonable explanation to get him to understand. Rolling her shoulders, she tried to relax.

“Well Crowley,” She started carefully. If she was going to sell her soul, he’d better get her order right. After all, there were no take-backsies. “I’m not asking for you to find me someone to love. I don’t need that. I-“ she paused, studying her hands intently. Her shoulders sagged under sudden weight. _What the hell.._ she thought “I’ve seen way too much, way too much evil in people that I don’t think I would be able to love any of them. Even if you were to make it happen. I just want someone to stand beside me. Just for a few years, that’s all I need. Someone who would understand, who’s like me and won’t leave.” Romie swallowed hard, finishing just above a whisper, “I just need a companion of some sort. I- I don’t want to be alone anymore…”

The pair stood in silence for a moment. Romie hugged herself, suddenly feeling violently vulnerable under Crowley’s hard gaze. Crickets chirped around them suddenly filling the air with their music. Romie had completely forgotten their absence until their return. After what seemed like hours, Crowley sighed.

“A soulmate it is, then.” He snapped his fingers and sent his glass of Craig elsewhere. Romie perked up.

“Okay. So, where do I sign?” she questioned.

“Ah, well. About that.” Crowley gave her a wolfish grin, “These deals aren’t sealed in ink, kitten. They require a more… intimate signature.”

Romie’s face scrunched in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“We seal the deal with a kiss.”  
Romie blinked hard.

“You’re kidding right?”

“Hey, if you don’t want to deal…” Crowley turned away grinning.

“No, wait!” Romie blurted, taking a step forward. Crowley turned back to her, his brow quirked as if to say ‘yes?’ Romie chewed her bottom lip. She could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks flushing her pale cheeks red. Cursing her body’s betrayal, she hoped Crowley couldn’t see her blush. A pipe dream, she realized looking up to see his grin widening. The flush spread down her neck and across her chest.

“Okay,” she whispered voice trembling.

“Excuse me?” he cupped his hand behind his ear as if he hadn’t heard her.

“I’ll do it,” she groaned, annoyed with his relentless teasing.

Crowley flashed her a triumphant, charismatic smile and slowly closed the space between them. Every fiber of her being called for her to retreat, to call it off and run like hell. It was either stupidity or stubborn desperation that kept her glued to the spot, Romie couldn’t really decide. Even though her body begged for her to run (or maybe it was deeper than that; her soul.) she did not budge. Instead she locked eyes with burning determination that seemed to amuse the approaching demon. He stopped, his body only inches from hers. Romie’s breath trembled. This close to the man/demon she could feel the heat of his body against hers. The burning warmth was all to inviting in the chill autumn air. His breath was even hotter still and evelouped her face. Blinking up at him her body trembled involuntarily. Crowley’s hand cupped her face and he leaned in.

 _This,_ she thought, _is exactly how a deer feels in the second before the wolves sink their teeth into it’s tender throat…_

His hand snaked behind her head fingers coiling in her hair, pulling her in for the kill.

And that was it. Try as she might, Romie couldn’t stop herself from closing the last millimeter between them, her body leaned against his, arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him closer to her if at all possible. His tongue darted across her bottom lip asking for entrance, and Romie opened for him obediently. A small moan flitted past her lips and she could feel Crowley smirk.

 _Smug bastard_ , she thought. If this was going to be the kiss to seal her fate and sell her soul, she would enjoy it if she damn well pleased. Trying to one up him, she ran her own fingers through his hair. Clutching the short strands at the base of his neck, she pulled hard. Then, sliding her other hand slightly under his jacket and button down shirt, she scraped her nails across the flesh of his shoulder.

And it worked. Crowley growled deeply wrapping his none preoccupied arm around her waist and crushing her body against his. This time, it was Romie’s turn to smirk, nipping his bottom lip and pulling teasingly,

She had only just let his lip escape her bite when Crowley pulled back completely and vanished into thin air. Romie fell forward without his body there to support her. She shivered at the cold after such a fervid kiss. Had he really just disappeared??

“Well then!” his voice chimed from behind her, Romie spun to face him again with an undignified yelp. Crowley chucked and clapped his hands together. “ You’ll have your soulmate in due time.  And I will be seeing you again in ten years time, kitten.”

Dumbfounded, Andromeda only nodded.

The demon paused a moment to flash her one last dashing smile, snapped his fingers and disappeared.

 ***********

Crowley sighed heavily. Slumping against his desk, taking a deep swig of Craig.

He had told those bloody knuckle dragging morons to handle any and all small fish sent his way so he could get a moment’s peace. After all, he was on the verge of setting his plans in motion. Lucifer had been released from his cage and in due time his, and all other demon’s, head would be on the chopping block. Being the self respecting demon that he was, that idea didn’t sit well with Crowley. His eyes fell to the top drawer of the desk where the Colt lay within. Not even the most trusted demon in his group knew of his plans because even the most trusted demon, when it came down to it, could only be trusted to spit on your corpse after narking  you out to save it’s own skin. Every demon in Hell had a crush on their Lord Lucifer like a demented fat middle school  girl itching for her first taste of under the shirt, over the panties action. He couldn’t count on any of them to keep their bloody mouths shut. But he could, and he knew for a fact, trust the Winchester Boys’ burning desire to put the beast back in his cage. He knew they were coming for it soon thanks to his sweet Bella playing her part like clockwork for him. They would be on the move now, he decided, and some bloody tart with major abandonment issues was the least of his concern.

 _Little minx, though._ He thought with a grin. His hand ghosting the spot on his lip she’d nipped. The flesh still tingled slightly under his fingertips. He almost regretted leaving so abruptly and not testing just how far the girl would have tried to one-up him. _She probably would ha-_

A small gasp jerked him from his train of thought. Crowley spun, ready to fight. Though when he saw the intruder, he faltered. Pale faced and bug-eyed the girl,  Romie he recalled, stood flabbergasted on the opposite side of his study.

“What?!” he demanded, causing the girl to jump with sudden surprise.

“What??” she echoed shrilly.


	2. Devil in the Details

“What?!” Romie echoed. The words escaped her lips in a pathetically shrill shriek. Mentally kicking herself, she tried frantically to take in her sudden change of surroundings.

The room she found herself in was dark and, in a word, _huge._ On the far side of the room behind the demon Crowley was an equally large and impressive window that started from the floor and reached clear to the ceiling. It was big enough to let in moonbeams that blanketed the wooden floor with a dim light and made the rest of the room fairly easy for her to see. The back wall to her right was all shelves full of old books and expensive looking trinkets lining the expanse of the room. In front of that sat an intimidating oak desk stained a deep brown.  Posh seats were placed artfully about the room and each looked like they cost more then she’d spent in the last year. The whole room was enveloped in the scent of stale cigarette smoke, alcohol, and some deep pleasant musk. Finally her eyes rested on Crowley, standing just as confused as she was, across the desk from her.

The crossroads demon blinked as if she were only a hallucination he could make disappear if he tried hard enough. Yet she still stood before him and his brow furrowed. When his expression switched from confused to threatening, Romie silently wished that she _had_ disappeared. Her hand quickly snapped to her pocket knife when Crowley slammed his glass against the desk with a loud _thunk._

“You!” he hissed, jabbing a finger towards her in accusation, “What the _Hell_ are you doing here?”

“I-“

“How did you follow me?” Crowley bellowed closing the space between them with break neck speed. Once he’d crossed the Persian rug that separated them, he reached for her, his hand crashing into her shoulder with crushing force and sent her staggering backwards. She hadn’t realized she had been backing away from him until the hard wall behind her knocked the air from her lungs. His face was inches from her again but this time it was threatening and red with anger. Romie snarled back at him, throwing her head forward, smashing her forehead against his nose. The bone cracked beneath the force of the blow, and Crowley growled in aggravation.

Seeing her chance, Romie shook away from him, trying to escape his grip. The click of her knife sounded like a gunshot between them. She sliced down at the demon’s arm in a wide arc ripping both fabric and flesh. He roared in pain, letting go of her shoulder Romie recoiled and dove to the side. Wedging herself in the corner, she braced herself as he advanced again. Swinging her knife up, she pressed the blade against the flesh of his throat.

“Do _not_ fucking touch me,” she spat, enunciating each syllable with a sharp venom. Her heart pounded feverishly in her ears. Her breathing was ragged from the sudden rush of adrenaline, but her hand did not tremble as she pressed the tip of the knife into his skin. Blood welled up in the indentation from the blade and slipped down the edge onto her fingers.  
The demon chuckled, the sound deep, dark, and dangerous seeping from the bottom of his throat.

“Now, what are you supposed to do with that,” he purred, “when you can’t even keep it in your hands?”  
The knife vanished suddenly from Romie’s grip. Smiling, Crowley dangled it in front of her between his finger tips. She growled and swiped for it, but Crowley pulled it back out of her reach.

“Give it back!” she snarled lunging for her only weapon a second time. Whether out of rage or desperation, she didn’t know. The demon chuckled and tsked pressing her firmly, but not harshly, back.

“All in due time, sweetheart,” he said. His voice was surprisingly calm and soft like velvet. “First, I’d like to know how you managed to hitch a ride here”

Romie scowled up at him.  
“The fuck if I know” she sneered”Why don’t you tell me? You’re the one who brought me here. Oh, and call me ‘sweetheart’ again, I’d _really_ like that.”

Crowley laughed. The sound was genuine and thoroughly amused. His head tossed back and Romie saw that the cut she had made only seconds ago was completely gone. Not even a trace of blood remained. She shuddered.

“Such mighty talk from such a little thing.” Looking her up and down, Crowley licked his lips. He took a step back and raised his arms innocently. “Alright, I believe you. I guess I’ll just have to take you back”

Before Romie could protest the air around her shifted. Weight pressed down on her body and with a ‘pop’ the ground fell from beneath her feet. She tried to gasp, but there was no air around them. Panic was starting to bubble up inside her stomach. She locked eyes with Crowley. Ever the epitome of calm, he seemed amused by her anxiety. Then with another ‘pop’ ground came rushing up on them and they were back in her shoddy cramped efficiency apartment.

“A little warning would have been nice!” she gasped, falling forward onto the back of the futon that doubled as both her couch and her bed. Crowley gave ad indifferent shrug and picked at something on his suit.

“There’s just no pleasing some people” he sighed. Then, looking around his face twisted in disgust.  
“You live _here_?” He asked “This place is a _hole_!”

“Gee, thanks” snorted Romie. She thought for a second before turning to him with a grin. “There’s just no pleasing some _people.”_ She waggled her brows as she weighed extra emphasis on ‘people’. He huffed in response but she could see sparks of amusement flitter in his hazel eyes. She continued, “It’s only temporary, anyway. I tend to move around a lot. I’m never really in a place for more then two or three months. It doesn’t seem right to spend money on a nice place if I’m not going to stay there” she shrugged, making her wobbly way to the wall and flicked on the light switch.  
“Wait, how did you know where I lived anyway?” Romie eyed him warily.

“Uhm, demon?” he replied in the same tone one would use when saying ‘Duuh?’ Romie tossed her hands to her hips, jutting one side out and raising a brow expectantly. The universal sign for ‘I’m not a demon, dipshit. Explain.’ Crowley gave an exasperated groan.

“Basically when you make a deal you’re marked until your time is up. No matter where you are, we know. We know where you live, where you work, where you order your favorite Chinese take-out. We know. At least your contract holder does.” He wasn’t quite sure why he was telling her but it didn’t really hurt anything. In fact, he hoped this bit of information would intimidate the girl. So far she didn’t seem to be the type to be afraid, only angry. He glanced down at the long gash in the arm of his suit with dismay. This was his favorite jacket... Looking back up at Romie he couldn’t tell if it had worked. She seemed to be looking right through him with no trace of fear or unease at all. Instead she merely nodded.

Romie nodded slowly, tucking that bit of information away, just incase.  Frankly, this whole damn night was just downright surreal. Of course making a deal with a demon wasn’t meant to be normal, but still. She never considered herself an easily spooked person. A bit paranoid, suspicious, and overly aggressive sure. But making deals with a demon, then teleportation, then being attacked and again with the teleportation could shake even the most hardened of people. Romie shifted uncomfortably in the sudden silence that fell between them.

“Well-“

“Will it really work?” she blurted, cutting off the demon accidentally. Crowley paused a moment before answering.

“A deal is a deal, kitten. You’ll have your _companion_ in a short time.” He sneered at the word. Brows furrowing he continued “Why in the Hell would you sell your soul for as little as that?”  
Before she realized it was a rhetorical question, Romie replied with a snort.

“Is it so little when the soul is so tattered and stained? If you ask me, you’re the one who got gyped.”

****

Crowley laughed cruelly.

“In ten years time you’ll be begging me to spare that filthy, stained little soul of yours. Who knows, maybe in five, after you get good and happy with what you’ve dealt for.” He stepped towards her, once again trying to intimidate her. For such an average girl with such a common request, she was beginning to intrigue and frustrate him. Instead of cowering before him like most humans had, this girl only smiled. It was tight and humorless, but the defiance was screaming in her eyes as she folded her arms across her chest and leaned against the wall casually. It was infuriating the way she refused to bend the way he wanted her to.  
_When her time is up,_ he thought, _I’m going to have to arrange something special._

“Maybe” She said calmly, “Maybe not.”

Crowley scowled down at her.  
_Something special indeed._

"Want some advice, _sweetheart_? Don’t try to run.” He paused for effect before adding with a cunning smile, “Or better yet, do. It’s been such a long time since my hound has had a good hunt. He does detest easy prey. Although, to be fair most prey is easy for him after he runs them a few miles. He likes to get their adrenaline running before he rips them limb to limb. It makes the meat taste sweeter.”  
Romie’s face went pale. Crowley smiled cruelly, finally feeling triumphant. His itch finally scratched, he continued, “Well I had best be going. No rest for the wicked, etcetera.”

“Wait!”

“Ciao!”

“What about my-“

 Crowley stepped into the space between here and there, turned and stepped out into study once again.  
_What an unusual thing._ He thought to himself. He walked to the desk and retrieved his scotch. Pleased it was still chilled he drank deeply, emptying it in one swift gulp. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Never in his lifetime had a contract followed the dealer home. Even before his time it was unheard of. Which, in Hell, was saying something. His brow furrowed. He would have to ask down the vine about that.  
Though he took care of it; the girl was taken back to her hovel, Crowley wasn’t so satisfied that is was done with. He would be seeing her before her ten years was up. Of that he was certain. Though, he had no real clue as to just how soon that would be.

“Knife……”

Crowley spun again. And again, Romie stood across from him looking baffled.  He groaned slamming his glass down a second time, exasperated.

“Sweet sin, woman! Don’t you ever stay where you’re left?” Crowley growled, tossing his arms up in defeat. This was absurd! Why couldn’t he shake the suddenly mysterious and impossible girl? Something wasn’t right here, that much was obvious. He looked her over again. Sure, there was strangeness about her. Some fundamental darkness rooted deep in her emerald eyes that made her hold herself a little higher than most people her age. Yet until she was dragged into his teleport, he hardly would have called her interesting. But now? He was _very_ intrigued.

Across from him stood his new mystery. The girl, Andromeda Weston, with her hands on her hips, shoulders slumped and a vaguely annoyed look on her face as she sized him up while he studied her. For a tiny thing she was confident enough, he’d give her that. Her bow shaped lips were pressed into a tight line and for someone who looked 127% done  with the bullshit, Crowley was surprised when she sighed running her fingers through her dark red hair and spoke with such sudden calm that it almost gave him whiplash.

“Don’t ‘sweet sin, woman’ me Captain Clear Eyes. You’re the one zapping me all over the place.” She muttered, forcing a smile and walked towards Crowley. Her emerald eyes were piercing in the moonlight, he noticed. Although there was no way to fully mask the exhaustion there, she hid it well. In the deep green pools of confusion and frustration there were also an unmistakable calm, focus, and dare he say coyness. Her eyes never flinched from his and Crowley could feel the short hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. It was a foreign sensation and made him deeply uncomfortable. Then again, human bodies did weird things all the time. So Crowley shrugged it off as Romie came to a stop merely inches away from his body. His eyes fell from hers, slid down her comely face dotted with light freckles he hadn’t noticed before, and came to a stop at her shapely lips. They quirked up into a smirk and Romie leaned closer.

For a moment Crowley was dumbfounded. _What is she doing?_ He wondered if she had her brains scrambled from teleporting and now she wanted to finish what they had started at the crossroads. Crowley smirked at the thought as Romie reached out for him. His chest puffed up but instantly deflated as her hand snaked around his body and snatched the empty glass he had set down. Andromeda pulled back. Obviously trying to hide her smug expression, she turned on heal and walked around the desk with her hips careening from side to side (or maybe it was just him paying painful attention to them while she sauntered away), and helped herself to the bottle of Craig he kept there. She swirled the amber liquid slowly before taking a sip, smiling sweetly over the cup before she continued.

 _She was toying with me_. He realized.

“Well… Now what? I mean we’ve already established taking me home doesn’t work and I swear to God, or Satan or whoever the hell runs this dump, if you zap me back again I am going to stab you. _Again_.” She chuckled softly. Rapping her fingernails against the oaken surface of the desk with one hand, she took a deep swig of Craig. In the silence that fell between them, Crowley could almost hear the gears whirling away in her head

At a loss himself, Crowley said nothing. His fingers traced the smooth edges of the pocket knife in his pocket absentmindedly  
He needed a plan, that’s all. It was fairly obvious what needed to be done. He studied Romie again for what felt like the hundredth time that night. It was plain to see that the girl was tired. Just looking at her was draining. Finally Crowley sighed gruffly, breaking the silence. With a thought he was standing beside Romie.

“Here.” He held up her beloved pig sticker.  
It was a sleek little tool. Old fashioned but well maintained. Though the wood was worn and the polish scuffed the blade was, in a word, immaculate. Pressed steal that, Crowley guessed, was replaced around 20 years prior and kept up to par. He could attest from personal experience that it was so sharp that it didn’t sting when it cut. It split the skin like a hot knife through butter and sliced deep. More like a scalpel then a knife, really. Judging from the care and the initials R.K.W. carved into the handle, Crowley guessed it was a sentimental thing, but that was only from a couple glances.

***********

“Hmm?” Romie looked up from the stare down she’d been having with her- _his_ scotch and instead of his face Romie got a close up of his knuckles. She almost jumped away, too tired to think he wasn’t about to strike her suddenly, but stopped when she saw the pocket knife dangling from his fingertips. For the first time tonight a genuine smile spread across her face and she had to laugh at herself.

“Thank you!” she beamed, taking the switchblade from him eagerly. Hoping he wouldn’t think her only happy to be ‘armed’ again, she gave the demon a grateful look. Which she realized immediately wasn’t something he was used to getting because he squirmed slightly, almost looking downright embarrassed. In an attempt to recover, Crowley gave her an indifferent shrug and focused his gaze on the little knife in her hand.

“Don’t mention it” he grumbled then pulled himself up higher. “it’s not like that thing is going to cause any _real_ problems” flashing her a sly grin as he tapped the spot on his neck where she had (hadn’t?) cut him less than thirty minutes ago. Romie felt her cheeks heat Technically, she had cut someone’s throat tonight. Albeit an angry charging demon to whom she had just sold her soul to right before being teleporting her to god knows where. But that’s beside the point.. Right?

Romie decided that she’d find time to think that over later and only laughed in response. Bouncing the recovered item in the palm of her hand, a faint smile on her lips. Though, she could feel Crowley’s gaze on her, Romie pretended not to notice. She could feel the question that hung between them.

“You know around demons you should carry a bigger weapon. Throw that one away.” He dipped his chin. It wasn’t exactly a question, but the demon didn’t bother hiding the curiosity behind his statement

 “Never needed a bigger knife” she laughed “Until now. Most men run pissing themselves if you put it to their goods, but I guess you demons don’t care much about that…”

“Oh believe me, we’d care” Crowley grinned. Romie smiled up at him and continued.

“It was my dad’s. My real one, I mean. Before that it was his dad’s.” she wrapped her fingers around the handle and squeezed, pulling it close to her chest. A look of ‘knew it’ flashed over Crowley’s face so quickly Romie could have imagined it.

“Ah, an heirloom. How… quant.” He teased. Romie rolled her eyes, earning a smile. And for a soul buying entity from the pits of hell driving what she assumed to be a stolen body, it was a wonderful smile. It didn’t seem practiced or cruel. In fact the demon seemed to relax, leaning up against the edge of the desk with his arms crossed loosely over his chest. Romie’s face flushed.

“You’re going to have to stay here until I can figure out what is happening. You have two options.”  
Romie blinked. She knew she would have to stay, leaving was obviously impossible. Even if she really wanted to hoof it home she had no idea where the hell she was anyway.

“O-okay. What are the options?”

“You may stay here, in this house, willingly. It has many rooms and as long as you keep clear of the other demons here you will be safe. Or you can refuse to stay, and I will lock you away in some storage unit until hell freezes over.

Romie burst into laughter.

“Is that even a real ultimatum?” she chortled, “I’ll take my time at the Ritz, thank you very much”

Crowley gave her a taut smile and waved his hand towards the door. On queue the heavy door creaked open slowly; a young man, who had to be about her age, stepped through the doorway. Romie felt her jaw go slack; the guy was down-right beautiful. Far from her type, but eye candy all the same. Tall and lithe, the platinum blonde with electric blue eyes looked like the male equivalent of a Victoria’s Secret model. Ironically, his hair shimmered like a silvery halo as he stepped into the moonlit study, coming to a stop at the front of the desk.

 _Has he been out there the whole time?_ She wondered,  _What has he heard?_ When he cast her a surprised and curious gaze over Crowley’s shoulder, Romie breathed out a sigh of relief.

“What did you need, sir?” he questioned, pulling his attention from Romie and turning it to the older demon. Crowley pushed himself off the edge of the desk and made his way to the bookcase behind it. Sliding an old dust covered book from the shelf and plopping it onto the desk, he spoke.

“We’ve a guest. She might be with us for a while, so I want you to show her the rooms. She may have any one she chooses”  
The younger demon nodded slowly. He was obviously perplexed, Romie noted, but he did not question Crowley.

“Alright, please follow me Miss…”

“Andromeda... but Romie works better,” she offered. The demon smiled slightly

“Miss Romie”

He turned and opened the doors for her, stretching a guiding hand out into the hallway. Romie gave a hesitant glance at Crowley, but the demon was already flipping through the ancient pages and was completely oblivious to her presence. With a cautious smile, Romie stepped out into the dark corridor.  Just as the demon moved to follow her, Crowley called out.

“Make sure you keep her away from the others. I would hate to have my new little pet torn up before I get a chance to play with her.”

Romie’s face heated with rage instantaneously at Crowley’s implication. It was bad enough she was trapped here, she thought, let alone in a house full of demons who would see her as their boss’ whore. Whipping around on her heals so fast she could hear the wind hiss around her, she scowled ready to tell him off. She faltered, however, when Crowley cast a dangerous glare from behind his desk. It only flashed for a second, but Romie froze in response. The realization suddenly hit her in the face like a bowling ball. _He only said it so they wouldn’t question him about me. He doesn’t want them to know._ It made perfect sense and she immediately felt stupid for not knowing it sooner. Judging from his reaction to their situation whatever was happening wasn’t normal and Romie had the feeling not all demons were as rational as he seemed to be. Nor were they as polite as her escort played at. Romie hung her head, attempting to hide the blush of embarrassment that crept across her pale cheeks. Her guide was grinning deviously overlooking the whole thing. Giving a single dutiful nod to Crowley he then turned to usher the thoroughly scandalized Andromeda down the hall.

The pair walked down the hall for what seemed like ages. The silence of the house was foreboding enough as the noise of their footfalls only seemed to reach just a few feet ahead of them before the walls devoured the echoes. Though, it wasn’t what was bothering Romie. As they walked she could _feel_ the curiosity radiating from the demon beside her. Out of her peripherals she could see him watching her whenever he thought she wasn’t paying attention. She had to do something to break the pressing silence and on the third turn though the halls, Romie spoke up.

“So, what’s your name?” she asked. Her words came out in a rush and she silently prayed it didn’t sound completely stupid. Her guide paused abruptly, his head cocked slightly. Obviously he was not accustomed to getting familiar with humans, just like Crowley wasn’t when she’d asked him.

“In this body it’s Sebastian” Romie could feel his eyes studying her for a reaction. ‘In this body’ was a hell of a way to start an introduction. She wanted to ask, but knew through countless horror movies based on exorcisms that that was just how demons worked. Instead, Romie hiked a brow up and snickered. Sebastian narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

“Sounds a little gay to me” she grinned. The demon laughed with Romie as he showed her up a staircase.

“Good call. You know, he was leaving a gay bar when I got him. He tells all the boys he’s inexperienced, but he’s seen more than a few up close!”

Romie’s mouth dropped as they  laughed their way up the steps

“Oh God, doesn’t that bother you?” she questioned. Romie was far from homophobic, she’d been with a couple other females before, but she was curious to know the demon’s take on it. He only shrugged.

“Usually, when I’m topside, I posses females.” He replied casually, leading her down yet another hallway, “I used to be a woman, so a gay guy really isn’t that far off.” Romie remained silent for a moment. _So demons used to be human, huh?_

“How did you become a demon?”

“You ask a lot of questions for a toy, don’t you?”

Romie let Sebastian’s comment slide.

“Humor me”

“Haven’t you ever heard ‘curiosity killed the cat’?”

“Yeah, and satisfaction brought it back.” She stubbornly retorted. Romie’s interest was piqued and she was determined to get an answer. The demon, however said nothing more and instead came to stop at the beginning of another hallway. Just how big this house was, Romie didn’t know but thus far it was a labyrinth. At least this hallway seemed less cold and oppressingly silent then the others. Rows of doors lined either side and at the end was an impressively large one that was carved in the shape of an arch.

“Here we are,” he said quickly, gesturing down the hall. Romie didn’t move from the spot where she stood, staring down the demon. She wanted an answer, but it seemed hopeless as the demon continued, “Crowley says you may have any room you want. Quite a privilege, he doesn’t usually permit humans to stay. Let alone one who knows about demons. You must be good.” Sebastian gave her a playful wink. Romie rolled her eyes and marched down the corridor with a groan. She obviously wasn’t going to get her answer, so she might as well get her sleep. Passing each door without so much as glancing at them, she made her way to the mahogany archway at the end and pushed it open.

“Wow..” was all she could say.

The room was extravagant and largely impressive to say the least it’s walls were paneled with deep cherry stained wood that served as a three foot high boarder between the marbled floor and the dark crimson wall paper adorned with golden filigraphy. across from the door on a raised platform was a kind sized canopy bed fitted with a deep red duvet that matched the walls. Black burtains hung from wooden posted carved to form different fierce beasts. To her right was an ancient armour and beside that, a private bathroom. On her left a fireplace sat to the side of the door and another giant window took up nearly the entire left side wall. Pursian rugs littered the floor, chairs, mirrors, paintings, tapestries, and plants filled the spaces tastefully so nothing was left to look empty.

“Wow.” Romie repeated. Sebastian chuckled from behind her

“Impressed?”

“Lil bit.”

“Crowley does like to keep things posh he is a King, after all” He smiled

“A… a King?” Romie asked, surprised.

“Yeah, of the crossroads.” He explained, plopping down in an arm chair unceremoniously, “Get good enough at something and they call you King. He’s hell’s best salesman.”

“Could have fooled me’ Romie snorted

“Wait you made a deal?” Sebastian asked, sitting up straighter. His brow raised with interest.

“Yeah, for the best lay ever.” Romie said dryly. The sarcasm was so thick blatant the demon raised his hands.

“Hey your deal is your own business… Is that why you wanted to know how I became a demon?”

“No… why?

“Oh, it’s nothing. I should be getting back, there are other things I have to do.” He stood up suddenly, “Goodnight, Miss Romie.” He gave her a small nod and quickly retreated from the room, leaving Romie to stare off after him in bewilderment.

 _For demons,_ she thought, _they are awfully polite…_ Closing the door, Romie stood again in sudden silence, shifting uncomfortably. She was tired. Each limb felt like it was tied to a sandbag encased with cement, but her mind was racing. Alone, the scenes from the night replayed in her mind like some b-rated Memorex film.

She had asked for a soulmate and now she was stuck in a house full of demons, velcroed to the King of the Crossroads. Romie almost laughed, this was exactly what she should have expected since nothing she did seemed to turn out remotely okay. She’d figured doing a bad thing wouldn’t have that bad of an effect, at least not this quickly. What the hell had happened? The obvious answer was that he was the soul she was most like.

The thought sent a violent chill down her spine. _No._ she told herself _. They don’t even have souls. This is probably nothing. Go to sleep._ She cast a longing look at the bed. Maybe it was the events of the night, maybe it was her addled brain finally snapping, but the piece of furniture beckoned her.

“You,’ she said out loud, making her way across the room, “me,’ she strode up the platform with purpose, ripping off her jacket and tossing it to the pillows, “Now.” And with that she leapt through the air, landing on the bed with a soft ‘ _pthhump’_. Burying her face into the smooth cool blankets she groaned happily. Usually she slept on futons or crappy motel slabs that they called beds. Sometimes, she even slept on the ground. But this? This was a cloud in comparison and Romie couldn’t contain herself as she wriggled deep into the cushiony surface, wrestling away her jacket and immediately shoving her face into the pillows with a dopey grin.

“Mmm.. If this is Hell then Father, I have s _iiiiined_ ” She sighed blissfully. Pulling out her mother’s photograph and placing it on the pillow next to her, Romie wrapped her arms around her own and drifted off to sleep still smiling.

 ***********

“Did you need anything else, sir?” the newest addition to his list of underlings questioned from the doorway.  
_he is a dutiful little poof,_ Crowley thought, not bothering to look up from the ancient book splayed out in front of him. _I’ve always wanted one of those, and it’s about bloody time, too._

“How many more minutes do I have for a call?” Crowley felt the young demon smile devilishly.

“We are well stocked for the month, sir.”

Crowley raised a brow, his chest puffing out with authority from all the ‘sir’s. _I could ge used to this_. He thought with a sly smile. _Play your cards right, kid and you’ll be the first person I’ll allow to kiss my boot when I get on that throne._ He leaned back in his chair, folding his hands together with a pleasant sigh.

“Be a good lad and go fetch one for me.”

“Yes sir.”

“Oh, and Sebastian?”

“Yes…sir?”

Crowley grinned.

“Make sure it stays quiet. We wouldn’t want to frighten the new house pet.”

The young blood’s smile spread from ear to ear, his head dipping slightly, light a tiny little bow. Crowley tried not to grin any wider.

“Yes sir. I’ll make sure it doesn’t squeal” and with that, the obedient prat turned on his heels and went about to do his task, tail wagging.

_Ahh. It’s good to be a King._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys have enjoyed reading this so far! Chapter 3 will be in two parts, please keep checking back for more! I'm having technical difficulties with my keyboard but hopefully will be getting a new one soon.


	3. You're a Hideous Thing Inside [Part 1]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, sorry for taking so long to update. This is one part of chapter three. Decided to say screw it and at least post ~something~  
> Kinda hurried towards the end, will probably come back and tweak it quite a bit. The next chapter should be up relatively soon!!

Crowley glanced up from his desk to the clock upon the mantel. The old Torsion’s golden face illuminated the ebony hands that rested easily on the numbers 1 and 11.

  
An hour and a half for a measly scrap of information, he thought with a frown. It didn’t take long after connecting with Hell for his previously good mood to turn sour. The process of asking his fellow demons for info was equal to the task of pulling teeth from a bear; grueling, slow, and potentially life threatening. Especially since His Nibs was set free from his cage. His eyes fell back to the stone bowl of blood that sat before him. Only keeping to his most trusted of contacts, Crowley still hadn’t dared to mention the reason why he was requesting information. If news slipped out about the girl who followed him home there would be plenty of demons in Hell, at least a couple hundred, to become curious. And he wasn’t about to let a horde of Satan-serving black eyed pawns get their hands on her before he figured out her enigma.

  
So he made a few discreet calls to locate an old ‘partner’ of Hell’s. He was an ancient warlock by the name of Nikomedes that no one seemed to remember when he got into the game. For Hell’s sake the book Crowley had found him in dated back to the Dark Ages. Even then, the book mentioned he was known a couple of hundreds of years before that. It also mentioned that Nikomedes was, is, and always will be the best seer ever known.

  
And he was just the ticket to solving Crowley’s conundrum. All he had to do was find Nikomedes, convince him to gaze into Andromeda’s future and see what laid there. But his location came with a warning. He lived in Maine, but his house was warded and difficult to find. No one knew how to barter information from him because no one Crowley had spoke to knew of many demons, save for Azazel and Lilith, to walk away from an encounter with him. It was a complication, but Crowley hoped that the relic of a man would simply do it for the girl. After all, once his plan was in motion there would be blood. He could imagine those loyal to Lucifer would hunt him down along with the girl if she didn’t detach herself from him. His mind drifted back to the mystery of Andromeda. He couldn’t not try piece it together. As a rule he never believed in coincidence and he never believed anomalies just happened without cause. Something unnatural was happening here, and Crowley planned on finding out exactly what it was. Then there was, taking into consideration, her deal.  
 _“I just want a companion; a soul like mine who won’t abandon or betray me.”_

  
He shook the echo of Romie’s request from his mind with a curse. It was ridiculous, and still the only explanation yet to make any sense. But it didn’t make any sense. Not really, and that was that. She dealt for a soulmate and Crowley did not have a soul. In fact, he fancied himself the living embodiment of humanity’s so-called current form of government; cuddly and inviting on the outside, but cold with the texture of a cactus on the inside. All class and no soul. Even if she could get bound to him, what kind of human soul gets strapped to a demon’s anyway?  
 _“If you ask me, you’re the one who got gyped”_

  
Crowley jolted upright in his chair. ‘Of course, why hadn’t I thought of that already?’ With a snap of his fingers he was back in Hell. At least the part of it reserved for those who brought in souls via deals. It was nice, as far as work spaces in Hell go, which really wasn’t saying much. The whole floor resembled a human office place, minus the windows. Grey cubicles were designed to keep his peons eager to get topside to make as many deals for as long as possible. His own office however, was just like his mansion; posh and luxurious with comfortable chairs and a bird’s eye view into the Pit. And he fucking hated it. Resolving to get in and out as quickly as possible, Crowley made a bee line for the corner office. A few lesser crossroads demons gave him curious glances, which he swiftly corrected with a withering glare of rebuke. Every demon who had looked up immediately forced their eyes back down to their work to avoid confrontation with their superior. Well, maybe he didn’t hate everything about this place. Clasping his hands behind his back, he continued on with a smirk. Flexing his power over these morons was his favorite pastime before he went Upstairs, and once his plans came to fruition, it would be his favorite pastime anywhere. Crowley reveled in the idea.

  
Although, once he reached his office the concept of victory dissipated and he focused on the mission at hand. After locking the door, Crowley made his way to the file cabinet that held all of his recent deals. Simply enough, Andromeda’s was the first case displayed. He took her folder back to his desk and flipped though until he found what he was searching for; the Soul Relay.

  
It was a handy little tool that came into play shortly before his time in Hell, but was rarely ever used in modern times. Fitting in the palm of your hand, the relay had two features. Both allowed a dealer to view the content of a contract’s soul before their time in Hell. The idea being to tailor their punishment to each and every terror and wound inflicted upon them in life. Azazel had made good use of them years back to scower for volatile foot soldiers to assist Lucifer’s cause during the apocalypse. Crowley himself had long since abandoned the habit of doing background checks on his deals. Frankly everyone did after a couple decades or so, their sins become less important and all you’d really like to see is the look on their faces when they’re being torn apart by Hell Hounds.

  
As Crowley picked up Andromeda’s relay, he could tell she wasn’t exaggerating when she had said she was tainted. Turning the steel and glass cube over in his hands, he began to wonder. In this setting, the relay offered a rough sketch of the soul. The outer layer closest to the glass held surface sins, ones that weren’t too serious or bled though from deeper within the soul. The middle layer held repeated sins, the kind of bad soul damaging habits that left abrasions within them. The last layer, deep within the core of the cube, held the most important part of the soul itself, and Andromeda housed something dark there. Turning it to the side, Crowley could note the differences of the depths of her soul. From inner to the outside the colors ranged from black, to light grey, to white. In the second setting, however, you could take a lovely midnight walk through and really get a good look at the sins in various different levels of severity.

  
And just now, Crowley fancied himself a stroll.  
With most souls you get a grey, maybe a light grey with a sickly yellow tinged accompanied by the occasional dark spots from where a mother slipped sleeping pills into her daughter’s evening tea every night, or from all the times he went out drinking with his buddies until ‘no’ never meant ‘no’. These were the reoccurring sins that had bled themselves out from the center until they shown on the surface. The more repeatedly they committed theses sins, the darker and thicker the blemish would grow.

  
And then, there was this. Crowley wasn’t even sure what to call this. Andromeda’s soul was so pure in essence here on the outer rim that it blinded him in white. Crowley felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. This certainly was not right, he thought, squinting through the intense shroud that blanketed the outer layer of her soul. Growing uneasy, he had to concentrate to get any deeper in. the only problem was that, without any sins, it was hard for a demon to navigate a soul. That’s when he saw them; little black splotches coming up on him like strangers out of a mist. Following the growing darkness until he found the middle layer he delved deeper, only to halt as soon as he reached his destination.

  
“Huh.” Was all that he could say, running his tongue across his teeth then pulling it back with a long sucking sound.  
There were a dozed and a half of them ranging from the size of a quarter to the size of a basketball. Most souls that came to them only had blobs of grey or dark brown, and most of which were from people twice her age. Andromeda Weston’s sins were black – the lightest of them being a slate grey. Crowley couldn’t tell what to be more impressed by; the facts her sins were so frequent that they were black as pitch, or how brilliantly they were organized.  
Human sins were usually sloppy things with no thought given to them. Their effect on their keeper and the ones around them made the blemishes all the more ugly and shapeless. Not unlike too much ink spilt on of too thin of paper, they bled onto the rest of the soul. Andromeda’s crimes, however, were tucked in tight and virtually seamless. Only circles and ovals were left behind to trace. Crowley marveled at the meticulous planning this must have taken; for as regularly as she’d have had to repeat them, they hardly fazed her or left lasting marks on those involved. Just when he thought he couldn’t be any more impressed, he took a few steps further.

  
In five paces, his surroundings took a sharp turn. From white, to light grey, he hardly anticipated the dull grey that came up so quickly that his eyes barely had time to adjust.

  
This can’t be right, he thought with a frown. Once again, a feeling of unease crept back into his stomach, he was almost to the core of her soul, where the deepest sins were housed. ' _How the hell can the rest of this be light and this be s-'_  
Crowley’s mind went blank on the sixth step. Here at the center he was standing in a field of grey. Directly ahead of him was a violent splatter of black that blanketed the entire space before him. Starting in the middle as a shade of black he’d never knew existed and reaching out, the stain left only the space behind him and at his sides grey. The edges were not smooth or rounded as the ones before it had been. Rather, they were sharp and jagged with smoky coal tendrils like fingers reaching out to grasp whatever else of her soul they could hold onto. The Blackness was threatening in appearance, to say the least.  
Crowley released a breath he hadn’t noticed he was holding. Taking a step forward to inspect the mark, he felt excitement bubble in his chest as he drew closer. It was, simply put, mesmerizing. With every inch closer, Crowley felt as if it would suddenly gain life, rear up, seize him, and swallow him whole just for daring to look too long. Looking into the middle was like staring into a void, and the rage. The rage radiated off of this thing like pus pulsating from a festered wound and made his hackles rise with trepidation. He whistled.

  
“What did you do?” He wondered aloud, ghosting his fingertips over the heaving beast that slept deep within the soul of the slightly ill-tempered, yet unassuming girl who’d followed him home, “And how can you hide it so well..”

  
Seconds crawled by like hours as Crowley studied the blemish beneath brows knitted together in bewilderment. He rubbed his jaw, realizing he had been grinding his teeth upon entering this place. A frustrated sound, somewhere between a hiss and a growl escaped from behind his teeth. Reluctantly, he pulled himself back from the recesses of Andromeda’s soul. When his office materialized around him, Crowley swiftly gathered every trace of her file leaving no evidence behind. Relay in hand, he teleported back to his mansion.  
Suddenly aware of how heavy the limbs of his meat suit felt, he trudged behind his desk and sat, placing the cube down before him.  
That, he thought solemnly, is exactly the kind of soul that would be bound to a demon’s.

  
***  
Romie was awake before she even opened her eyes. The morning sun cast rays in through the window that spilled out across the room and engulfed her body in a warm golden light. Outside birds sang with all their might, beckoning her from slumber. She groaned a soft and pointless protest with little conviction as she burrowed her face deep into the silky duvets beneath her with a tired smile. Everything about this bed was heavenly. Which was ironic, she thought with a chuckle, given the circumstance.

  
“Well, no point trying to get back to sleep now.” She told herself, rolling over with a happy sigh. Honestly, Romie couldn’t remember the last time she’d had such a good night’s sleep, let alone woke up smiling. It was a strange thing, given her current situation. After getting that stretch that was just right, Romie stilled. Making her breath shallow and light, she listened out beyond the door of her room. Out in the halls there was nothing but quiet. She frowned. Hadn’t Crowley mentioned an ensemble of demons she was to avoid? How was she supposed to manage that when she couldn’t even hear where they were? There was no faint echo of footsteps from afar, no muffled voices, or doors opening nor closing. There was only silence.

  
Maybe demons keep their day jobs? She mused with a smile. There hadn’t been a demon in sight last night either other than Sebastian and Crowley. And neither of them seemed that bad. Sure, Crowley had attacked and threatened her, but he was a demon. Frankly, if someone had followed her home late at night, she would have attacked them too, so she really couldn’t hold it against him. That and she’d cut him a couple times, which was more than he had done to her, in Romie’s eyes that made them even. Seb had done nothing more than attempt to unnerve her, but she won that round straight off by making the demon uneasy in the first place. She chuckled. Kindness and familiarity was taboo to them. At least she and her wardens had something in common.  
Romie swung her legs over the bedside with a yawn. Her eyes were still crusted with sleep and she rubbed them gently as she rose to her feet.

  
Romie didn't need a mirror to see she looked a sight, she could feel it. Her long rust colored hair had been matted to the left side of her skull during the night and her clothes were heavily pushing their three day limit. Her lifestyle had made recycling clothes commonplace, but she hated feeling dirty. Glancing down at herself in dismay, running her fingers through her tangled mess of hair hurriedly

  
_'If only I'd grabbed my bag'_ she groaned inwardly. Then again if there were any reason to forget the backpack you lived out of, being sucked into a demon transport was a pretty good one.

  
Good reasons aside, Romie still frowned. It wasn't just clothes and a plethora of fake IDs she kept with her. Everything she dared to keep from her two past lives was in that back pack. The bag itself was a gift from a guilt-ridden US Marshall who, dispite his failure, was a good man. For 6 years as of yesterday, it had been her only home. She was definitly going to miss it's weight across her shoulders; whether she'd admit it or not.  
WIth a heavy sigh and a shake of her head, Romie stepped down from the platform.

  
'There's got to be something in one of these rooms.' she thought, 'Crowley is bound to have had girls here. If not him, than the other demons. Lust is a sin, after all. What's a little carnal pleasure between spieces, +could wait, she decided. Now she needed to get a look at just where the Hell she was.  
Romie took just one glance outside and her nose crinkled in vauge disgust.

  
"Ugh, a gated community. Just kill me now, please." she grumbled and retreated back to the middle of her room. Back roads demon deals? No problem. Teleportation? Easy peasy. Fighting off an angry demon? She's had worse. But a gated community? Now that was where Andromeda Weston drew the line.  
Here she was,in an unknown mansion with a gaggle of demons and a bought soul, but it was the idea of the yuppies out yonder that was bad touvhing her. Romie snorted at herself, slapping her palm against her pale forehead. Her aversion to the rich ran deep. She'd only ever known wealth to tied to corruption and crime. hidden under fake tan and 200 dollar hair cuts. The only reason she was comfortabled here was because she knew the dirty secret. And after all, demons were ment to be corrupt and thrive off of crime.

  
Must be nice not to have to hide' she thought dryly. 'Anyway..' she turned to the other side of her room, her face set in a determined gaze.  
"Down to business" she announced to no one as she rounded the bed. In the corner she found a door she hadn't noticed before. The knob creaked as she turned it. To her surprise it was an enormous walk in closet complete with a vanity and three chairs, but the only clothes that lined the walls were well tailored suits. She assumed they were Crowley's.

  
"Well, if worse comes to worst at least I have some back up."

  
And with that she shut the door, runing on heel to address the other door on the right wall. She'd seen it last night, but was too exhausted to poke about.  
She opened the door to unveil a personal bathroom, qually lavish as the rest of the house. Romie beemed. A hot shower! Not wasting time or bothering to continue her short lived search, she rushed in. Embrodered towels were rolled neatly on the counter; she reached for one but froze when something resting on the toilet caught her eye. Romie turned, there sitting upon the closed lid was her backpack. She squeeled with delight, movoing around the counter and clutching the bag to her chest. It smelled like sweat and earth and more importantly; comfort.

  
She unzipped the back pouch and pulled out her clothes.

  
 _'Guess I won't be needing Crowley's sharp suits after all.'_ she thought with a broad smile.  
Things just wouldn't stop getting better. And although she was beyond please, Romie couldn't help but feel a foreboding sense that something very wrong was about to come. Generally, as a rule in her life, good things never came without terrible consiquences. Now that she was in with the baddest of bads, it could only mean the worst, right?

  
Romie placed her clothers down on the counter, grabbed a towel, and headed for the shower. As she adjusted the temprature, she thought about why she was here. To be honest she didn't have a clue, except for her deal with Crowley. The idea had surfaced in her mind last night though she'd banished it quickly enough. Now however, as she stripped down and stepped under the warm water, it was a train of thought which refused to derailed. Why else would she still be here? She'd requested someone she could trust, whom she didn't have to hide from. As crazy as it sounded, maybe the demon King of the Crossroads was the only one that fit the bill. Running her finders through wet hair to get all the shampoo out, she smiled tightly.

  
 _'Well, if anyone would get bound to a demon it would be you.'_ she told herself. _'It could be worse. There could have been no one.'_

  
Romie could feel her previously merry mood begin to disapate. The truth was, someone or not, nothing was worse than not knowing. Not knowing what was happening, if she would get what she'd bought with such high of cost, if she would ever have to stop running and hiding, or if the whole thing was bupkis and she sent herself to Hell 10 years sooner than she would have naturally. Her emotions waged war with each other as she stepped out from the shower. Romie wrapped the towel around her dripping frame and moved to the mirror. It was covered in beads of condensation from the steam that blanketed the room. Wiping the cerface clear, she leaned in to study the figure staring back.

  
Dispondant emerald eyes looked back at her from a mess of deep red wet tangles. Light freckles that she'd spent years loathing graced the tops of her cheeks and peppered the bridge of her nose. Every day her face was just the same, but like every other day; Romie hardly recognized the eyes of the girl in the mirror.  
_'Who are you?_ ' she asked herself this question frequently. Who are you supposed to really be when you change your name every few months? Although she kept asking, she hadn't really received an answer to either question yet. Romie frowned at her silent reflection, only pulling back when her stomach let out a cry for attention.

  
"Ugh, I'm starving" she realised loudly. Drying off quickly, she reached for her clothes. Romie decided to postpone her oncoming panic attack until she'd gotten some food, found Crowley, and in that order. After all, there were much more pressing matters than her ongoing identity crisis. Romie was glad to brush it aside for now. Tossing her hair up into a messy bun, she dove into the winding halls, a woman on a mission.

  
It took her nearly 20 minutes to fing the kitchen. In that time it dawned on her that demons probably don't eat food and that she was more than likely searching for disappointment. Standing in the doorway her stomach complained again, louder than ever. Disappointment be damned she was hungry enough to dive into a sugar packet or two. Walking across the white marble floor to the fridge, she crossed her fingers and hoped for something good.

  
Milk, oj, eggs and butter was waiting for her behind the door. She checked the date; all fresh bought. Romie grinned ear to ear. Free room and complementary breakfast? The Ritz, indeed!

  
_'Now only thing left to do is find Crowley,'_ She thought while gathering up the ingredients. ' _But first..'_

Romie grabbed a frying pan and made for the stove. 10 minutes later she bit into the buttered toast topped with eggs and groaned happily. Ah, the little things.

  
"Making yourself at home, I see." a voice suddenly chimed from behind her. Romie jumped with a surprised yelp, nearly dropping her plate to the floor.  
"Jesus Christ!" she shouted, quickly trying to wipe away a piece of egg that had flown out when she yelped before Crowley could notice it. But the demon stood looking on in sheer amusement.

  
"Making people uncomfortable is a cherished pastime" he shrugged flashing her a coy smile. "And you, pet? You're to skittish not to toy with."Romie flushed red.

"Yeah, well you'd be jumpy too if you were in my shoes." she took another bite of toast and cast Crowley a withering glare. He only chuckled.  
"Still, I'm glad you're enjoying the food I sent out for as much as you enjoyed sleeping in my bed."

  
"That was your bed?" Romie deadpanned.

"Yes, Sebastian informed me that you took the Master bedroom last night. Good choice, by the way. I mean, if we're meant to be playing the rolls of lovers... You've got a natural dedication to the roll. I'm sorry I wasn't there to play my part." he said with a wolfish grin. Romie could feel her cheeks flush crimson again from embarrassment.. or anger. She couldn't tell which.

  
'Don't give him what he wants, Romie.' she reminded herself. She wasn't a toy. Maybe a little stupid, but that was on her own time. Romie composed herself, mentally smoothing out any trace of aggravation before she spoke.

  
"Oh, don't worry. I did just fine on my own, sweetie." she smiled earnestly. "Besides, I think that young cabana looking one, Sebastian right? Anyway, I think he's such a cutie. And firm. I mean like," Romie cupped her hands and made a squeezing motion. It all was a lie, of course, but she hoped silently that it would throw him off enough to change the topic.

  
Crowley himself deadpanned this time; only for a brief moment before dipping to a calm, but dark expression. The demon snorted.  
"Well if that's how you like it, why don't I bring all the lads in here." he raised his hand as if to snap a finger.

  
Panic jolted though Romie's body like a shock-wave. Every blood cell felt like it had frozen dead in it's tracks, but her body moved into action. She practically threw he plate on the counter while taking strides across the floor.

  
"No!" she hissed, reaching for his arm. Crowley simply stepped out of her reach with a laugh.

  
"That's more like it" He purred, looking down on her with self satisfied eyes. Romie glared up at the unfair man.

  
"Yeah, well you don't have to be such a sore loser." she grumbled.

  
"It was a cheap shot." he frowned.

  
"Just trying to even the score," she sneered. Crowley laughed again.

  
"Again with your tough talk. Never expected such a small thing to be hiding such.. venom." There was something in the way he spoke that made Romie feel as if there was something she was missing, but she wasn't sure. Instead, she rolled her eyes.

  
"I'm a little closer to Hell than some people"

  
"Oh, you have no idea, darling."

  
The hair on the back of her neck prickled at he spoke. Her half assed attempt at a joke was actually very real. Only now standing with with demon Crowley, who hated being one-up'd, did she truly feel too close to Hell. Perhaps she should try a little harder to keep her mouth shut? At least the part of it that gets her into trouble. Romie fiddled with the hem of her t-shirt for a few moments before she finally remember she was grateful to have one.

  
"Thank you, by the way." she said reluctantly. Crowley's brow perked up in confusion. "You know, for bringing my backpack here."

  
Crowley shifted. Although he hid it well behind indifference, she could tell this thank you had made him just as uneasy as the last. The subtle notes of discomfort almost made her giggle. Of course only kindness would be the key to beating him at his own game. Romie tucked that information away for safe keeping. Romie watched him as he shrugged it off with an amused smile, it was down-right adorable. 

  
"Couldn't have you running around in your birthday suit, now could we?" He said completely bliase, reaching around to grab a glass of scotch that hadn't been on the table the moment before. Romie crossed her arms, her hip jutting slightly to the side.

  
"You could have," She replied, deciding to milk the fact that Crowley seemed to be unnerved by praise. She slapped on her sweetest, most sincere smile, "but you didn't. Thank you."

  
To a normal person, Crowley would have seemed indifferent to her thanks, but to Romie he might as well be squirming and not just under his meat suit. She hid a triumphant smirk.

  
"Either way," she continued, " I was going to just wear one of your suits if I didn't find anything. I think I'd look quite nice in those fancy threads"  
Crowley said nothing, Romie tried to read his face for a clue but Crowley only seemed lost in thought. Romie frowned. This entire conversation had been one big communication failure. In fact, in the six years she'd been trying to find a home and utterly failing; This had been the most awkward she'd felt speaking to another person.

  
Oh, nice Romie. Can't even adequately communicate with a demon.

  
She was about to speak up again when Crowley interjected.

  
"I will be leaving soon." he said so suddenly, Romie blinked for a moment.

  
"O-okay?"

  
"You are to stay in this mansion, do not leave. I've sent the others on jobs but Sebastian is here to.... look after you."

  
"Wait, where are you going?" She questioned, finally catching up to the conversation. Her brows knitted tight from confusion and worry, although she'd deny the latter. Without Crowley around, would Sebastian be as nice to her? What if the other demons came back? Her stomach fluttered with concern. but Romie told herself it was only from all the excitement earlier.

  
"I'm going to see an old friend and discuss your living arrangements. If all goes well, you're free to leave."

  
"And if it doesn't?" her voice wavered despite her desperately trying to keep calm. Crowley didn't answer. He couldn't answer. Romie could see in his eyes she could see his own uncertainty, he had no Idea what would happen then. Instead, he looked away and continued.

  
"You have full range of the house while I'm gone. If you need anything call for Sebastian. He may be new but he's a obediant little brat.. I will be back."

  
And like that he was gone. A sinking feeling crept over Romie as she stood alone in the kitchen. The dread from before was beginning to bubble in the pit of her stomach. She stood still like a stone, balling and unballing her fists in time with deep breaths. Over the years she had almost forgotten the anxiety of not knowing. But it wasn't all bad, she thought. In fact in all of the stress there was ever growing excitement. It was dark and potentially life-treatening with a heaping side of terror, yes, but exhilarating all the same. Romie took a few more slow deep breaths, then spoke.

  
"Well, I've got the day to explore. Let's see how gilded this cage really is" and with that, turned on heel and walked out of the kitchen, a woman on a mission.


End file.
